Alabama Acres

So there's hundreds of auburn Alabama acres With rows of red roofs over warm farmer's daughters Who've got no intention of inviting me in Space shines all above me, so I settle myself under it When I wake up I'm back in my crowded city apartment With some random men doing work off in the kitchen They're stacking mattresses up now from the ceiling down to the floor My father's sick in the hallway. I hear him whistling under the door I rush to lift him, but you all know I'm weak and you know that he's heavy There's no blood in his cheeks, but he's smiling straight at me I ask the thickest of the workers, "Would you please come and help me out?" He comes ambling over and says, "Sir, I love how your whistling sounds." So now we drag him through the kitchen and down on the carpet He says, "Son, I'm embarrassed, but the sides of my head hurt I just know that I'm tired, and I could surely use some rest." I tear a mattress down for him and I say, "Here Dad. Sleep some on this." I wake for real, and it's over I'm alone in the acres, and my dad is still dead So if you're underneath one of those rooftops Look out your window and invite me on in Cause it's cold and I'm lonely, and I could sure use a friend